The Aftermath
by SalvaVeritate
Summary: It is unhealthy. It is a sick obsession to want the dead. A companion piece to The Game, I highly suggest you read that first because it progresses after that story
1. At Seventeen

This is a companion piece to The Game, which means that this is based on the events that have transpired in that particular fic so it might be confusing to you if you haven't read The Game yet... So please please please read that first. ☺

_Something told me we'd be happy forever  
I don't see how this could change any of that  
I will follow your ghost as it climbs up the rockface  
And lie with you on the grass above_

_And I'd like to change all this  
And I'd like to wake up from this  
By your side_

-Snow Patrol

I.

You are Sebastian Valmont at seventeen years old.

You are happy.

Not in a general sense of happiness that one would feel when someone is having a good day or if somebody has just woken up with an inexplicable sense of contentment at how one's life is going. No, for you it was deeper than that. You feel it in your system, in each blood cell and each bone and vein in your body. You feel giddy and _alive_ as your head spins and you find yourself in that familiar place that you often go to whenever you take your new friend with you. That liquid source of bliss and that which is supposed to be bad for you, which you don't understand because as soon as the clear blue liquid enters your body through the tiny needle you inject yourself with, it doesn't feel like it's bad. It doesn't feel like it's harmful and that it will corrupt your nervous system the way Blaine Tuttle has eventually warned you when he realized that you were taking too much of it too fast.

You never listened to him. Nobody ever saw the effects it had on you, because despite the abuse of drugs and alcohol your depression has led you to, you still remained as handsome as you ever were. If not more…

Perhaps the guilt suited you. Perhaps the tragedy has made you some sort of hero and that the death of the one girl who ever made you feel so happy has turned your eyes bluer and your gaze more meaningful and intense. Perhaps you've grown into the grief and it had an adverse effect on you. It's like the lesser you felt, the more your features became sculpted and pronounced.

Your entire bedroom turns misty before your eyes and your skin feels cold and clammy, but by now you're used to it. It is like the other few instances this has happened, your head will hurt like hell as your view adjusts itself, you will feel cold and your teeth will chatter. You'll pull up your blankets up to your chin but it won't help.

Kathryn is dead. That is the reality. You don't want this reality. You can't accept it. Every night is a struggle for you and nobody knows it. They don't know that when you pursue each debutante and socialite, you see her in your mind. Smiling at you. Teasing you. When you succeed in your conquest, it is your stepsister who is touching you. It is your stepsister who is kissing your mouth, it is your stepsister you fuck and sometimes, when a particular conquest becomes attached to you, you would like to think that it is Kathryn who tells you that she wants to love you and to be with you.

It is unhealthy. It is a sick obsession to want the dead. You know that her body is rotting six feet under and that the only marker of her existence is a white marble crypt that bore her name. There was a statue of an angel on top of marble rectangular slab, made by the most gifted sculptor you could find. You've never believed in God and neither did your family (and Kathryn's mother), but you had it built for her. You wanted someone to watch over her when you couldn't. The angel wore a simple tunic, not like the other angels. It was a little boy angel, with finely detailed curls and a serious look on his chubby face. It stared directly at the doorway of her resting place, as though he wanted to protect her.

A laughable thought. How do you protect someone who was already dead?

You had it made for another reason. One that nobody would ever notice. The safest decision you've made because you didn't want people to know that you loved her more than a brother would love his sister. The angel held a book in one hand while the other held a sword. Nobody else knew what it meant.

You did. Maybe she did as well. Maybe if she was there and she could see the statue, she would only smile. She would get it. She would remember that when you were younger, she said you had a wonderful face. Ethereal and golden and warm, like an angel. You liked that thought. You remembered it when she was dead and you watched as they placed her casket inside the marble case. You were with Annette and there were somber looking faces in the crowd. No one was crying. Annette had her hand inside yours and she watched you carefully, the concern is apparent all over her face. You didn't acknowledge her. You only watched as your stepsister, the love of your extremely fucked up life, was finally laid to rest. You wanted to stay with her and live in that crypt. But you couldn't. You really couldn't, because she is gone but you are still there. You can't stay there. People expected things from you. People expected you to move on just like they would do.

So you had the angel built. It was based on a photograph of the two of you when you were children. You found it in her room when you were rummaging through her stuff in order to make sure that when her mother had her things removed, she wouldn't find anything to taint Kathryn's reputation. It had been in her drawer. You gasped when you found it and spent a few minutes on her bed just staring at it. It's just a photo. There was nothing written on the back, no flowery scripts or inscriptions. You touched the little girl's face in the picture. Her rosy cheeks, her dark green eyes, her light brown hair swept up with a red ribbon. The boy beside her (that's you, although it feels as though you were never really that small or that innocent) was holding a book and a plastic sword for a play. You were appearing in a play you didn't want to be in (only she made you because she wanted to be on the stage with you and have fun by playing other people) and you were scowling while she had her arms around you. She was smiling widely for the camera, dressed in a fairy pink costume. What kind of play was that? A play with angels and fairies? You didn't remember. You only remembered her and that day. You'd forgotten your lines. You totally fucked it up and you felt like a moron. You were annoyed at her for making you do it but then afterwards, she met you backstage and she kissed your cheek while smiling sweetly. Then it made it alright again. The statue was based on that picture. It was you. You'd like to think it was a part of you that stayed with her at all times, keeping constant vigilance so that nothing and nobody would hurt her or disturb her.

Dead. Gone. Her flesh was probably rotting. Decaying. Her brown hair was probably stiff and dry, her skin was probably wrinkled and shriveled up. Or maybe not. Maybe she was like one of those saints whose bodies forever remained fresh… But then again, she wasn't a saint, was she?

The chills are spreading now, your eyes are watery and bloodshot and your clothes are soaked with sweat. It is like viewing a movie, particularly one filled with special effects wherein the colors change before your eyes and everything moves slower than usual. Slow. Fast. Slow. Fast. Your heart beats faster. Your pupils dilate. You reach for the alcohol by your bedside (scotch), and take a swig of it.

_Please come. Please come. Please let this be one of those nights._

Sometimes your friend comes through for you. Sometimes it brings her to you, sometimes it doesn't. When she comes to you, the happiness you feel intensifies and when she doesn't, you just stay like that and somehow you dream of better days.

Pathetic. That's what she'd say. You aren't like this 24/7. The night cloaks your real sadness, because when you wake up to a new day, you go about your life as if you were okay. You are Sebastian Valmont. Wealthy, handsome, and intelligent. Always put together. Always calm and rational. There are some nights wherein you become her brother. Her lost frustrated lover. Pleading. Begging. Desperate for something of her.

The transition is nearly complete. The room is foggy and cold now, and the sweating has stopped. Hesitantly you shove the blankets away from your body and you stare at the puncture on your arm. That little red dot.

The door opens and she's there. You smile. You don't cry… You just smile. This will be one of those nights you get to be with her. Your heart pounds. She looks beautiful just like always. She isn't a rotten corpse. She isn't a saint either. She's just… Kathryn. You're not sure if this is her spirit of if this is just a hallucination. To be honest, you have never really believed in life after death, but for her sake you do. You would like to think that she's still there somehow, because death couldn't be the end of her. You would like to think that she still lives and that she hasn't changed. She's still charming people. She's still beautiful, envied, and adored. Men still want her, women still want to be her, and she knows it. You would like to think that she lives in a mansion somewhere and that she misses you on days when she doesn't have a man on her bed and she's alone. You would like to imagine that she has a balcony and that it overlooks the ocean, and that when she is out there, she remembers you. You would very much like to think that she's just stuck somewhere and that there is no way for her to reach you. No phones, no email (emails are for geeks and pedophiles but you would have taken that if you were given a chance), and no way to send letters or telegrams. Sometimes you wonder if she was bored enough to feel whimsical, and she stuffed a letter inside a bottle and threw it on the ocean overlooking her balcony. You wonder how the bottle will get to you. As of right now, it's still being played with by the waves. Biding its time. It's a clear green bottle. Wine. Red wine, her favorite.

She's not wearing the dress they buried her in. She's wearing the dress you thought looked good on her. Ivory colored, not tight enough to make her look like a slut and yet not loose enough to make her look virginal and pure. You know she isn't. You love that she isn't. Her hair isn't stiff and dry, it's long and gloriously soft and beautiful. Like spun silk. She frowns slightly as she approaches you and you sit up and wipe your eyes as if you had been asleep.

"Brother." She whispers, her smile is soft and wistful. She reaches down and touches your cheek with her hand. You close your eyes. She is dead, but you're not afraid of her standing before you. Her hand feels real as it caresses your face, as though you had just experienced a nightmare and she was soothing your nerves. Now she isn't dead. When she is in your room, you are in a different reality now.

You stare at her. You cover her hand with yours and you kiss it reverently. She's not a saint but you adored her. Oh, God… Did you adore her…

"Will you stay longer? Will you please stay longer this time?"

She smirks. That familiar smirk…

"Can't live without me, Valmont?"

"I can." You tug on her hand and she climbs on top of you willingly, straddling you. Looking at you with affection while you stroke her hair. "I just don't want to."

Her teasing look disappears and is replaced by a more serious one while she succumbs to your caring. Her face goes slack and she stares at you.

"I miss you." Kathryn says quietly. "Everyday, Bastian. Everyday."

You nod and suddenly she frowns. She places her hands on your chest and feels the dampness from your sweat.

"Get this off. You're soaked." She pulls your shirt over your head and you raise your arms willingly.

"You just want to take my clothes off."

Her laughter is a wonderful sound.

Her eyebrows rise. "Oh? You're still so arrogant, aren't you? You haven't changed at all."

"Neither will you."

She throws your shirt to the side.

"Yes, I will. I'll be ugly and putrid soon… It's only a matter of time."

Her eyes are closed. She isn't breathing. She's surrounded by darkness. Confined space of her coffin. You don't want to think about it. You only want to think of the angel boy that watched over her.

"No! No, it's not!"

She smiles complacently, "Little angel boy, my big brother. You always did want to protect me even when I didn't need it."

"You won't change. Not for me."

"I'm a corpse."

"No."

"I'm dead, Sebastian."

"You're beautiful and perfect. You'll never age."

"Never age." She echoes faintly, getting off your lap. She takes the bottle of scotch and sits beside you, taking a dainty sip of scotch.

"Yes."

She nuzzles your neck and then rests her head on your shoulder.

"But I want to age."

"Well, you can't."

"Because I'm dead."

"No. Will you stop saying that?"

"You can't keep doing this."

"Yes, I can."

She strokes the puncture wound on your arm.

"You're not built for this, Sebastian."

"What am I built for?"

She kisses your jaw, "I don't know."

You feign shock, "You don't know? But you had all the answers in the world! The great Kathryn Merteuil doesn't know??"

You chuckle. Your heart feels constricted, but still, you chuckle. She scowls and hits your shoulder lightly.

"Jerk."

"Well, you do. You know everything about everybody, so why don't you know about me?"

"Yes, I do. I do know you."

"Really?"

She nods.

"What do you know about me?"

"I know that you're my favorite out of everybody else I've ever been with, even though we never really fucked."

"That can be changed…"

"You want to fuck?"

"Not… tonight. Not tonight."

"What do you want to do?"

"Just talk."

"Really?"

"Yes. I miss how we talked."

"We talked all the other times I was here."

She smiles slightly like she had a pleasant memory. You wonder if it's the same as what you were thinking of right now. You wonder if she's smiling at the time when you first used that drug. You wonder if she's remembering the time when you just sobbed like a pathetic moron when the drug brought your hallucinations to a whole new level and she came to your room. You had jumped up and swept her up with a loud surprised cry and she hugged you back just as tightly, like you had been separated for decades and only had that moment to see each other again. You told her that you loved her and that you were sorry over and over again and she only shook her head and kissed you like it didn't matter anymore.

You take her hand and she doesn't resist. Her fingers curl around yours and you both watch how you are intertwined. She's still leaning on your shoulder and you kiss her forehead, smiling at the thought. At how you must both probably looked. You, with your shirt off and your handsome self while the one you've always ever really wanted and loved right beside you, not putting up any resistance at all. She's leaning against you and you're holding her hand. You wanted so badly for this to be real.

"You weren't here every time."

You sound petulant and jealous. Like you were her boyfriend and you felt neglected when you were drugged out of your mind and she failed to appear in front of you.

"Oh, don't be needy. I had things to do."

"But I am. When it comes to you, I am. Because you're gone and you're never really coming back. Because your room's empty and they've taken all your things away now… It doesn't even feel like it's yours anymore… When I go there it's just… nothing. Just a room… You're not here all the time and I need you to be here because I need this… I need—"

"They took my things out?" She interrupts, frowning slightly. "Sebastian, I have things there…"

"What, like your sex tapes?"

She looks scandalized, "Do you honestly think I'd be stupid enough to keep a video of my indiscretions—"

She stops because when she looks at you, she notices the laughter in your eyes and the smile you were trying not to show.

"My other things, Sebastian. What happened to them?"

"I took care of it."

"My necklace. Where is it?"

You reach under your pillow and pull it out, handing it to her.

"Thank you."

She takes a bump of coke and before you can stop yourself, you reprimand her on her drug use. She only laughs at that.

"I'm dead, brother. I think I'm entitled to all the coke I want."

"Sometimes I forget."

"Do you really? I wish I could forget it too. I didn't plan on dying, you know. Do you think of me differently? Do you think I'm some sort of saint after the accident? I didn't mean to die. I just acted on impulse. I didn't think. I just didn't want to lose you like that."

"Why couldn't we have talked like this when you were still really here?"

"And what? Fall in love, spend every waking day together, and formally announce that we were a couple in front of our family?"

She rolls her eyes, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her reply. The bitterness lingers in her words and you could almost taste it the way you swore you could almost taste her mouth when you kissed other women. You feel hurt at her reply and you only remain quiet. You don't look at her.

"Yes." You eventually reply. "I would have liked that very much."

She openly gapes at you, as though she hadn't expected that answer.

"How's the virgin?" She says after a moment's hesitation, changing the topic.

"It's been over with her for a long time, Kathryn."

"Really?" She looks interested, particularly in the gory details. That was Kathryn, alright. "Did she bawl like a pathetic little bitch when you broke her heart?"

"She knows about you."

"She knows what?"

She's immediately guarded and suspicious, "Does she know who I really was?"

"Am."

"Excuse me?"

"'Does she know who I really am.' Not was."

"I'm dead, Sebastian. It's only proper that I used was."

"You are not dead."

She withdraws her hand from yours and waves the denial away impatiently, already used to it. "Does she know about me the way I think she does?"

"She knows I've been a fucking wreck when you…"

"When I what?"

"were gone."

"Sebastian…" her voice softens and she places her hands on your jaw, bumping your forehead together. "you have to say it."

"No, I don't." Somewhere at the back of your mind, the more lucid and rational one, knows that she is right. But you can't say it in front of her because you're worried that when you do, she will just disappear and never come back. Maybe if you believed that she is still alive, then she will keep coming back to you.

"Listen," she cuts you off with a kiss, which you eagerly return. You were hungry for it. You were hungry for her in all the ways a man could be hungry for a woman he could never really have. "you have to. You can't… You can't do this, okay?"

"I don't care." You mumble foolishly, kissing her neck. She wraps her arm around your neck and whimpers.

"Listen to me." She strokes your hair, playing with it. "it's sweet and somewhat insane what you're doing, really. I do love it. Don't get me wrong, but this isn't really healthy anymore."

"Oh, like you're the one to lecture me on drug usage."

You pull away and rest on the bed, pulling her close. If you had continued kissing her, you would have eventually slept with her and you didn't want the sex because it only speeds up time. You wanted to make it last for as long as it can possibly last.

She spies the photograph of you as children on the side table and takes it, playing with it.

"I liked this picture."

"Like."

"I swear if you correct me one more time I'm going to bash your skull in with this picture frame."

You only grin. It isn't Kathryn if she didn't threaten you from time to time.

"I had a statue built in your…"

Crypt. You can't say it out loud because it would mean that she's dead and she isn't! She isn't dead! She's just come back to you and it means that she's not a corpse!

"I know. I saw it. It looks like you... Just a little. The statue was better looking. You had a funny shaped nose when we were children. I used to think you were ugly. The statue had a better nose."

"What!"

"Well, you did! But that's not the point. As if you can't get any more self-absorbed, you have a statue built in your image. In my crypt, nonetheless! Why couldn't you have had the sculptor build it in my image?"

"Because I quite like the idea of still being able to protect you."

She softens. "Protect me from what?"

"Demons. Angels. I don't know."

"There are none of those." She replies quietly, resting her head on your chest. She always did that when she came. Once she told you it was because the beating of your heart reassured her somehow.

"Really? Well, there must be something else I can protect you from."

"No angels and demons, Sebastian." She strokes your abdomen absentmindedly. "Just an unending amount of frustration. You can't protect me from that."

"It's my fault."

"Yes."

You shoot her a dirty look, "You didn't have to agree with me. I thought you were supposed to be all knowing and kind now?"

"Please. And be boring and suddenly glow and sprout wings?"

"I don't know… You would have looked hot with wings."

"And a glow?"

You laugh. You want to cry, but you don't. You stay like that with her, pausing once in a while to kiss her head or her forehead. Pausing to stroke her arm and run your fingers down her back, just how she liked it.

"Yes. And a glow."

"I don't know… You might get freaked out. God knows you already have a few loose screws in that head of yours."

"None looser than yours, sis."

She pinches the skin on your stomach and you wince.

"Are you seeing anybody?" She asks casually, but you can sense the underlying tone into it. Mild jealousy. You loved that she was still jealous.

"Yes. A lot of 'anybodys'."

"Hmm… You're back to being a womanizing prick again."

"Wouldn't you prefer me this way?"

"Considering Annette, yes. But considering how you've become a pathetic womanizing prick with a drug and alcohol problem, I'm already contemplating a change of mind. I don't prefer you this way, Sebastian. Do you have a death wish?"

"Why not?" You sound hurt again, "You don't want to talk to me anymore?"

"You're hallucinating. We're not even supposed to be able to talk anymore and this isn't real."

"So what?"

"So Blaine better help you the fuck out or I'm going to kill him myself. You can't use that!" she takes the syringe and looks at it with disgust, "You're not like that and you know it."

"What am I like?"

"You're a hell of a lot stronger than you think. That's what you're like. You don't need these."

"I know I don't. But I get to see you and talk to you when I do all those things. I need you. I fucking need you. How can I make that any clearer?"

"I think at this point you've made it as clear as it can possibly be." She looks up at you, grinning. "Hey, look at this."

She shakes her head and you watch in wonder as the strands of her hair turn into golden yellow, first at the roots and then it spreads to the tips until she becomes a blonde.

"What do you think?" She tosses her hair, smiling coquettishly. "I think I can pull it off better than your hick ex girlfriend."

You reach out and run your fingers through the golden strands and she's just watching you.

"Spun silk." You whisper. "I don't care what color it is. If it's yours, I like it."

She kisses your palm and her hair turns back into that familiar brown you would often look for in a crowd.

"Sometimes I think you're just traveling… And that you're in this mansion somewhere just living an entirely different life."

"Really? What's it like?"

You touch the back of her neck and place your mouth near her ear so that both your eyes are closed. She places her thin arms around your neck and you feel her shake slightly while she presses her lips against your skin in a kiss.

"It's beautiful." You begin, your voice is raspy and sometimes you get choked up because she is there with you and you have missed her terribly. "It never rains and the days and nights are always perfect. Sometimes it gets foggy at night, but you don't feel too cold. When the sun's out, you feel the warmth on your skin and your cheeks turn slightly red. It's a two-story mansion and the furniture's like the ones you have in your room… There's a balcony in your bedroom that overlooks the ocean and sometimes you like it out there. When you don't feel like getting a tan on the beach, which by the way, has the smoothest and smallest grains of white sand you'd ever seen, you stand out there just thinking. You have an entire staff of servants to fulfill your every whim, and I know that you have _a lot_."

She chuckles but you shush her gently, rubbing her back in circles.

"You have neighbors, too. So you don't get bored… And it's just like New York. Just like what you had here. They all envy and adore you. You attend parties and everybody wants to talk to you because they find you fascinating. You pick the one you'd bring home for the night, just to sleep with him. Just to spend the night with another warm body, but they'd really be idiotic losers. Oh, they'd be handsome sure. You'll make sure of that. But they won't look at you the way I do. They won't want you the way I do."

"That sounds right."

"It does."

You lower the straps of her dress and slowly unzip the back while she begins to get an idea of what you had in mind. She squirms out of her dress and nestles against you, completely trusting and pliant.

"And that place you're living in right now… I can't find it. I have a clear view of it in my head but I don't know where it is. I'd like to visit you sometime, and I would if I could… Sometimes I even think about moving there—"

"Don't."

"Why not?"

She curls her fingers against your back, clawing at the skin.

"Just don't." She answers simply.

You want her so badly too badly it hurts everywhere and yet you feel numbed at the same time. You want to bleed for her to heal her and bring her back. Will they allow it if you shared your blood with her? Would they allow it if you lent her your heart just so you would hear something thumping in her chest again? She's kissing you now and you want to start crying but your tear ducts have dried up so all you can do is lie back down and crush her fragile body against you. Tightly and possessively, but then you loosen it a bit because you're scared of hurting her. As her mouth moves from the place where your neck and shoulders meet, you suddenly feel a wave of nausea as was the custom when your high is slowly diminishing.

No! **NO NO NO!**

You groan out loud and clutch your head. The excessive perspiration is back. Everything hurts again. Kathryn stops and you look at each other.

"Ifeelsleepy…" You mumble. Your words are jumbled up and you're nearly incoherent.

As you close your eyes, the darkness creeps upon you like a mischievous predator. The last thing you feel is her hand squeezing yours lightly before you surrender to the very human (and weak) state of sleeping.

You wake up in the middle of the night gasping her name from a dream you had. Her name. Just hers. Not the blonde's. Not any blonde. Just hers.

She is dead.

You reach for the bottle. You stare at the drug. The blue liquid somehow reminds you of the ocean you had created for her. Maybe she is back in her two-story mansion with her servants and her perfect white sand. Does she love the sand? You hope she does. You think she does. You remembered that when you were children she liked squishing it between her toes. What about the perfect days and the wispy white clouds? The blue skies? Will she ever tire of it? And the nights? Will the darkness remind her of how alone she really is? Please don't let her feel lonely. Please let her have fun and be adored and envied the way she was meant to be. You know that she is beautiful and that she will always have the best dresses and the most charming smile. You know that when she's out on her balcony she might even think of you. At least, you want her to think of you. It's only fair. You thought of her all the time.

Kathryn. You love her _so much._

You hope the next time it happens, she will stay longer.

* * *

I keep continuing the most unlikely of stories. It's so odd. Don't worry I'm keeping it very short. And no one's coming back from the dead. I've gone down that road before.  



	2. At Eighteen

_Blood-red lips like soft intentions_

_Kiss my eyes they're black and blue_

_Even if I shouldn't be here_

_I cannot help myself with you_

_There's something that I should have told you_

_We won't get a second chance_

_Just one night is all we'll spend_

_Together and it's killing me_

_  
She rescues me_

-Snow Patrol

II.

You are Sebastian Valmont and you are eighteen years old. 

It is taking its toll on you. This grief that has made you even more handsome that you were already? Now it's turning against you. The physical effects of it are barely visible, but still nonetheless there. Your eyes, though always lit up, have a glassy quality to them that eerily resembles the eyes of the porcelain dolls your stepsister owned when she was a little girl. They look alive and it reflects the world, but in reality it isn't alive. You aren't alive. You're like a robot. A womanizing, arrogant and insufferable robot.

Your arm has borne witness to the map of your visits to where she is. A passport to the land of delusions and where making love to the woman you loved more than anyone isn't called necrophilia. The little puncture wounds are being created even though the other ones are now taking a lot of time to heal. People see it, but they don't comment on it. They're scared of you. Scared of what you can do. Scared of what you can say. Sometimes you think that when Kathryn passed away, whatever _power_ she had over these people had been bequeathed to you the day you woke up from your dream of her and you were holding her hand. Like when she kissed you and told you to wake up, she wanted to take some form of her with you. Just like what you did when you had a statue built in her place.

Blaine Tuttle is concerned. It has been a year since the accident and it seems like two people had died instead of one. He sits silently with his closed fists pressed against his mouth in deep thought, happening to glance at a framed photograph of the three of you taken two years ago. You were on Kathryn's left side and he was on the other side, she was in the middle of an open-mouthed, no holds barred laughter and she had a hand placed on your wrist casually while Blaine had an arm slung over her shoulders in a brotherly fashion. You remembered staring at it for a long time when you visited Blaine after the accident. It was odd how we notice things that we never noticed before, yes? Somehow loss gives things more meaning. You realized that moments were highlighted only when we realize we're never going to have more days like that again.

A soft knock interrupts Blaine's reverie and a blonde young woman bearing soft hazel eyes stands with an amused smile on her face. He shakes his head and blinks to erase the thoughts and memories of his friends at least for the moment.

"Hello, cousin." She smiles widely; bestowing him with an affectionate kiss which he receives with equal warmth. Sometimes, when he remembers too much of what had happened with Kathryn and what you had become, he feels his insides freeze up. Maybe he wears a different kind of grief than you do. Obviously. He doesn't feel guilty when people remind him that he is still alive the way you do. Blaine needs the companionship and the moment he gives Gia Griffin a hug, he feels the sense of loss diminish.

"When did you get here?"

"Just yesterday." She smiles, her pert nose twitching slightly. "Still doing the bad thing, Blaine?"

"Why, would you like some?" Blaine motions at the drugs but he stops and mentally yells at himself. He stands frozen while he wishes he can take back the gesticulation but it's too late. Her pretty face falls. Then it appears mildly uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry—"

"Tuttle? Got anything for me today?"

You choose that moment to appear, as though you were an answer to Blaine's unspoken plea for a distraction to leave that _awkward_ place of Gia's past.

For your part, you really don't give a fuck about anything. You stop talking and glance at the girl who seemed to be a year younger than you. She's looking at you and you feel annoyed because suddenly there is this look on her face like she's thinking of something mischievous. Somehow, you don't know how you know it, but you get a sense of what she's thinking when she casts a knowing look back at Blaine before hiding a smile.

"I am not gay." You snap, miffed at her assumption. Did she have no idea whatsoever who you are?

Her eyebrows shoot up, not shrinking away the way most people would have done. You get even more annoyed at her.

"I wasn't—" she begins, her voice calm and so innocent sounding you would like her to shut the fuck up and get the hell out because you don't like her mischief filled looks.

"Yes, you were." You glare at her, "Who the fuck are you?"

A little indignant breath escapes her pink mouth and she crosses her arms, "I don't care for your rudeness. You are the foulest man I have ever seen, and I would rather not give you my name because then manners would dictate that your name would be given to me in return and I'm not sure I want to know you."

The fire in her voice ignites something inside you. A small ember in the dark scattered ashes of your soul sparks and you frown. You almost clutch your chest because the unfamiliar warmth is so unexpected you were caught off guard. Your heart twitches. Not in a literary sense, mind you.

You turn to Blaine, clenching your jaw. Is it so difficult for him to get this annoying little bitch to leave?

"Who the hell is she?"

He holds up his hands in surrender, trying to decide which one to appease. The blonde curls her lips scathingly and mutters something under her breath that suspiciously sounded like 'pompous asshole'. You pretend not to hear it.

"Okay, I'm not choosing sides. You both really need to chill."

"I don't 'need' to do anything you say." You nearly yell, "Where the hell is it?? I need it!"

Your voice rises anyway and you notice how they both jump.

"Fucking addict."

Your veins nearly pop and you grab the sarcastic bitch's frail looking arm, squeezing tightly.

"You do not fucking know me."

Your voice is calm yet it is so bitter and hard she recoils from it. Absentmindedly, you observe how she's so thin that if you squeezed just a bit more, her bones will break. You entertain the thought perversely. It wouldn't be a bad way to shut her up.

Before you can even think of the next sadistic scenario hatred had pushed you into, you suddenly feel Blaine's fingers crumple your collar and with surprising strength you never thought he possessed, he shoves you away threateningly.

"That's my cousin, Valmont." He says, clenching his fists. "I know you've been through a lot but you do not have an excuse to treat her like that."

You fix your wrinkled shirt and throw a few bills on his desk.

"Just give it to me."

Blaine hesitates. You sense his worry even though he's angry with you.

"I can't."

"Why the fuck not??"

For some reason, you glance at the girl. His cousin. She's watching you with a strange look in her eyes. It wasn't pity. You stare right back balefully, hating every bit and piece of her.

"Valmont… You need help."

"What I fucking need, Tuttle, is what I just paid for. I'm not in the mood for your sanctimonious bullshit. Give it to me before I beat the hell out of you."

"She's gone, Sebastian. You'll never get her back, you're only fucking yourself up. She wouldn't like it, you know. Kathryn would never—"

The mere mention of that name snaps something inside you. The ember is extinguished as a new round of hatred fills your very core. You bend your elbow and shove your arm against Blaine's neck, choking him. His eyes widen and he begins to choke, the girl starts beating your back with her tiny fists like she thought she could hurt you. She doesn't understand. You were right in assuming that she doesn't know you at all.

"Give. It. To. Me."

Your heart suddenly clenches and for a split second it hurts so badly, you jerk involuntarily and Blaine manages to hand you that blue drug you craved so much. He wheezes and coughs several times while his cousin pats his back.

"You monster." She whispers but you only head for the bathroom because it has gone past your control at this point. Your friend constantly wants you and you don't have the resistance to fight it. You need a small amount to just continue walking… Just a little… Nobody ever noticed it… You took a larger dose at night… Just… One… Just one so you could get home… A little bit…

The bathroom door slams shut and you take it out with shaking hands, uncapping the syringe. You take a seat on the floor and you find a plump vein on your arm, closing your eyes. The world spins around madly. Fuck. You need a little to walk straight.

With narrowed eyes, you try to measure the dosage. The last thing you wanted to happen was to have Kathryn inside Blaine's bathroom with you. Nobody else can hear your conversation. She is yours and yours alone and nobody, not even Blaine, who is like a brother to her, can share her with you.

It goes well and you are about to pierce the skin on your arm when it happens.

Fear.

It blossoms in your heart like a tainted flower. Growing. Eating. Feeding on your pain. Your heart tightens again and you find that your lungs seem to have given up on you. You clumsily grab the doorknob but your sweaty hand betrays you as well and you fall heavily to the floor, hitting your head hard. It hurts more and more now. There is an entire garden of evil called fear inside your body.

You scream.

Your eyelids flutter as you stare at the ceiling, unable to move. Will Kathryn come even though you didn't take your friend with you? The white ceiling turns into a gaping hole that seems to scream at you and you fumble with your phone to call someone (anyone!) but your fingers don't seem to work.

The door opens and of all the people to arrive, it was the yellow haired bitch you hated. She takes another look at you and you almost expected her to laugh and call you a moron but she doesn't.

She kneels and takes your head on her lap, taking the nearby towel to dab your bleeding head.

"Unh." You grunt and shut your eyes tightly because the pain becomes so unbearable you claw at your own chest just to get it out. Maybe if you stabbed yourself the monsters that are eating up our organs will come out and you will be saved.

"Don't." She places her hand on top of your arm while she yells for Blaine to call 911.

"I hate you." You mutter, truly loathing the situation. You stare deep into her eyes and you hate her for everything that she is but she doesn't push you away or do anything to retaliate. In fact, as you begin to drift in and out of consciousness, you feel her hand stroking your hair. Like she knew that when someone did that, you started to feel better.

You hated her for it even more. You wanted her hand to fall off. You wanted her to bleed and die and disappear.

---

"Wake up."

Your eyes open and the stroking on your hair ceases. Blearily, you look up and notice Kathryn looking at you. She has a hand on your chest and her green eyes appear to be darker than usual. You look around. You were back in her room with her.

"I can't stay." She looks around like she was expecting someone to suddenly come into her room.

"I hurt my head…"

She turns her attention back to you, "I know. You fucking dumbass."

You sit up and roll your eyes, "Have some sympathy, will you?"

She grins. She looks so beautiful you don't feel irritated whatsoever at her flippancy.

"Oh, alright…" She pouts and kisses your mouth in the way only she can. Her kisses are as familiar as the memory of her forever trapped inside your head.

"Better?"

"Much."

She chuckles. You only laugh weakly with her.

"There was this girl. A blonde. She was so irritating I wanted to pull each hair from her head and gag her with it, and you know me, Kathryn. I'm not the one who has violent tendencies, but there was just something about her that annoyed me."

"What's her name?"

You pause.

"I don't know."

"Maybe you should."

"Yeah… I think you're right."

She pinches your arm.

"Ow! What the hell was that for??"

"Don't forget me, okay?"

Forget her? How could you forget her? But something about the way Kathryn said it made you hate the blonde more… You loved Kathryn and only her; did she really think it was what the whole thing with the blonde was about? No. Never. You are through with blondes.

She stands up and when you reach out to grab a hold of her, you only feel nothing but the urge to…

_Rest._

---

_One month later—_

They've taken you off the meds now. Blaine had warned you that you couldn't have the drug ever again because one more dose and you would die.

You wanted it at first. Then maybe you could live with Kathryn again, only this time, you wouldn't have to have separate rooms.

But then you changed your mind. You don't know why or how or when… But you did. You still sleep with thoughts of Kathryn. You still see other women when you fucked the usual beautiful empty-headed slut… But there's something else in there. Something else, but you didn't know what.

The grief has cut your features so sharply each angle of your profile seems too perfect. You keep your head low when you walk amongst crowds, as though hiding your sad beauty, so very much like a Greek god. Tragic and poignantly wonderful.

You duck into a bookstore that specialized in antique books, shaking off the snow from your shoulders. You ignore the curious stares of the few people who weren't in the middle of Christmas shopping and head for the back section.

You've always liked reading. When you were younger, Kathryn would call you a loser and would oftentimes be mad at you because she said you paid more attention to the books than to her. You had rolled your eyes and kissed her. Not a brotherly kiss, the way Blaine kisses her. More. She deserved more. You wanted to give her more. You wanted to give her everything.

…You are in the middle of rereading a chapter in the first edition of a worn out book, the title of which you forgot because it had been obscured by time, when you feel something odd. Out of the corner of your eye, you glimpse a shade of familiar dark blonde hair and you look up and realize that Blaine's cousin was thumbing through the shelves interestedly. She holds a cup of Starbucks in her gloved hand while she brushes back her hair. It looks soft. You wonder if it really is. Soft, you mean.

Wait.

You clear your throat and turn back to your book just as she happens to look up. She recognizes you easily and she looks uncertain of whether or not to ignore you or greet you. You hadn't really parted on good terms. You hadn't really parted at all. The last time you ever saw her was when you were both in the bathroom with you lying on the floor while she stroked your hair. When you woke up you looked for her, but Blaine told you she was gone.

You feel disgusted at how you acted and you offer a hesitant smile, which she returns.

"Hello."

She returns the greeting, albeit a little cautiously.

"Hi."

"We've never formally met." You hold your hand out over the wooden shelf. She accepts it.

"I'm Sebastian Valmont."

"Gia Griffin."

She has a nice smile. White even teeth. There's a dimple on the corners of her mouth when she smiles.

"No Christmas shopping for you?"

She shakes her head, shrugging.

"On nights like these I prefer to have a cup of coffee alone. It gives one a sense of…" She pauses, "How can I say this?"

"Detachment from the entire world in the form of coffee and a sparsely populated bookstore?"

She laughs warmly. Her hazel eyes light up when she does that. You can't help but notice it. But then somehow the eyes turn green.

"Yes." She takes a sip of her drink. "How are you, Sebastian?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to suddenly throw a fit." You half joke, smiling ruefully. "I can't do the stuff anymore. I've been told that the next time I attempt even a drop of it, it'll kill me."

For a split second, a grief that eerily mirrors the one you wear so often renders her beautiful face so helpless you felt something. Not love. Just… something.

"I'm glad you're okay then." Gia says softly and she is so unlike any other girl you've ever pursued since Kathryn died because she doesn't look at you the way the others did. There was no scheme in her eyes, no lust or a secret need to be wanted by you. As she attempts to juggle her bag and her cup of coffee, a little bit sloshes from the opening and she curses. She tries to rewrap her scarf around her neck but her things kept getting in the way.

You don't know what possessed you.

"Let me."

You cross the aisle and you take the end of her white scarf, gently wrapping it around her neck. Your hand brushes against her cheekbones but she doesn't seem to notice. She only smiles gratefully before stepping away from you.

"Well, I'd better go. It was nice seeing you again, Sebastian. I'm glad you're doing well."

You only nod and she starts to leave but then you hear something. A voice.

"Wait."

Your own. It sounds so strong and confident you didn't recognize it.

"Would…"

Your voice again. This time it's hesitant.

"Can I buy you another cup of coffee?" You shrug, "You know, to erase first impressions? I realize how I'd acted before and…"

She shakes her head, "No, I understand. It's fine, really."

"No, please. I'm not the kind of man who would hurt women in that sense… When I was fifteen, I got into an argument with an ex girlfriend and I ended up grabbing her the way I did you… Well, my…"

You almost stop talking. Why are you telling her this?

"My stepsister Kathryn saw it and she… Well, she didn't really like the girl but Kathryn slapped me for that… She told me she had a boyfriend who hit her once and… You see, I just can't stand it when I think about someone doing that to her and I realized the hypocrisy of my actions so I swore I'd never do it again."

You wince.

"Please let me buy you a cup of coffee to make up for it."

She hesitates. It's so amusing how you're both hesitating. Fumbling for the steps to this awkward dance.

"Alright."

You smile.  
---

"Kathryn… The one you lost? Your stepsister?"

"Yes."

"The one you grieve for?"

You walk along the dark streets of Manhattan with your steaming cups in hand. Gia is amusing and witty, your conversation has become so easy and smooth that you wonder if you have met her before and just forgot about it. Even when she broaches the subject of Kathryn, you don't feel at all hounded by her questions the way you did when people ask you about her.

"Yes."

"You grieve for your sister… I never pegged you as a family man."

"She wasn't… Never mind."

She was more. So much fucking more.

People are inquisitive by nature, some more so than others. As you suddenly fall into a lapse of silence, a far cry from the almost jovial mood you were in earlier, you almost expected her to pry more information from you. You braced yourself for the attack of wanting more and more and more from you, but as you listened to the sounds of your feet crunching the snow on the ground, you realized she wasn't doing anything of the sort.

Gia had taken to your silence and accepted it.

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I understand."

You glance at her dubiously, "Do you?"

"Yes."

You didn't know what to reply to that so you change the topic and you ended up walking her to her hotel without even realizing how far you'd gone from the bookstore.

"Goodnight, Sebastian. Merry Christmas."

"You, too."

As you walk a very, very long path back to your car, a random memory hits you.

When you were seven, you and Kathryn were in competition against these two kids, also a boy and a girl. You had forgotten their names, but they were siblings (a boy and a girl). There had been a moronic school competition similar to a scavenger hunt and even though you and Kathryn thought it was lame, you joined since the siblings were part of it. You were on the way to the final prize with Kathryn when you suddenly tripped and sprained your ankle. The siblings got the prize and they won. Kathryn had this grumpy and crumpled look on her face and you felt so guilty as you tried to hobble up and ignore the pain.

_ "We can still catch them, come on!"_

_ You jumped and then fell. Hard. You groaned._

_ Kathryn pulled you up and she allowed you to lean against her._

_ "I'm sorry, Kathryn. I shouldn't have gone so fast—"_

_ "It's fine. It's not your fault. It's just how you are."_

_ "You're not mad at me?"_

_ You both stopped hobble walking and she glanced at you._

_ "A little."_

_ "I'm sorry." You say it again, watching as the stupid siblings hugged each other in victory._

_ "Don't apologize. You don't need to."_

_ "You should've picked Tommy. He runs faster than me, you could've won."_

_ "I don't want Tommy. I want you."_

_ You smiled at her and she smiled back._

You were so happy with her.

You sleep in her room later that night.

She did not come in your dreams. Neither did Gia.

* * *

I needed a break from Desunt Cetera, for which I will post an update hopefully this week since I am officially on my summer vacation. I've gotten requests for Things Unsaid and Involuntary Descent, and I really would like to finish Desunt Cetera first before diving back into the others. But whatever. We'll see. The reason why I haven't posted the latest in Desunt Cetera is that I'm really going to have to handle the whole Conner thing well. Of course, Mathieu and Belinda's presence doesn't exactly make matters easier now, does it? 

No matter. I can scheme as long as I want to. I'm on vacation :D

Oh, and I also wanted to post this because of the unbelievable set of lyrics I found that just fit so well with this.

Since I'm feeling nice, here's an excerpt from the new chapter (although at this point it might be changed) of Desunt Cetera

_He extends his hand out, "My name is Mathieu de Comte."_

_"Kathryn Merteuil."_

_I shake his hand and Sebastian rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath._

_"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Merteuil… This is Belinda Van Ryan, my… friend."_

_There was a distinct tone in the way he said friend that made me wonder about just how much of a friend she really was. Nevertheless, manners and etiquette dictate me and I can tell that she was also raised the same way. She merely smiles a dazzling smile that had graced a few magazines I had thumbed through in passing as she shakes my hand, never taking her gray eyes off me. They were such an intense pair that I am oddly reminded of Sebastian and how he would look at me sometimes._


	3. At Twenty One

_Should I go_

_If she calls out my name?_

_And if she bleeds_

_Should I wipe up the stain?_

-Damien Rice

III.

You are Sebastian Valmont and you are twenty-one years old. 

You are surrounded in loud music and equally loud voices of the crowd who attended your twenty-first birthday party. As you glance at your wristwatch, you realize sardonically that it stopped being your birthday two hours ago. There are a lot of people from high school (mostly females and mostly your former conquests) who greet you in loud and slurring voices and you only nod by way of a reply. You hold an unfinished glass of whiskey as you momentarily glance at the passing faces before you finally spot Blaine slouched down on his couch, smoking a joint.

"Tuttle, I think I'm going to go ahead."

He holds up his hands in protest, looking so comical you had to crack a smile.

"Aw come on, Valmont! You're not going home with one of these sluts tonight?"

"Hey!" Cried a drunk woman nearby, "I hhhheard that!"

Blaine shrugs, "Oh you know it's true. You just fucked three random guys tonight and you're still cock hungry."

She doesn't reply. She's already passed out.

You laugh but your eyes still look so sad and you still look so goddamn nice even though there are darker circles under your eyes and your years attending university has caused you to look older. Gone perhaps was the smug (although generally you're still quite arrogant) hard partying boy of your youth, and despite the fact that you still went to a party or a few clubs every now and then, you are also concerned with other more important matters such as your grades and your career. You realized it wouldn't be so bad if you took your father's place and run the company someday, but you didn't want to get to that because you were his son. All your life you've gotten everything you ever wanted. Surprisingly, you want to deserve it this time.

"I have a paper due in two days, Tuttle. I'm up to my neck with the fucking workload and I'm really not in the mood to slack off."

"God, since when have you had a big stick up your ass?" He reaches for a package on the table and hands it to you, "By the way, I found this while I was looking for something the other day and I thought you might like to have it. Happy birthday, loser."

You take it and was about to inquire about what it was and perhaps warn him that it better not be anything illegal when a voice interrupts you.

"And how are my two favorite men tonight?"

Gia comes up and slings an arm from behind you, gently squeezing you in a quick hug before she pecks your cheek and gives the same greeting to Blaine, who only gives her a stoned grin.

"You were supposed to be here four hours ago." You chide her and she only smiles guiltily, tucking a strand of her shoulder length hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry, _grandpa_." Gia teases lightly, unbuttoning her coat. "I got held up at work."

"You're wealthy, Gia. You're already taking up too many classes as it is, I don't really think you need to work right now."

You're so protective of her but she doesn't even realize it. Over the past few years, you have cultivated some sort of friendship with her that has become such an integral part of your life you don't even try to fight it anymore. She takes the train to New York from Washington D.C, where she studies, to visit you. Sometimes, you're the one who visits her. There is a familiarity to her now, almost as though she has become one of your favorite books that you will always want to read. You have not pursued her as a conquest even though she was as attractive as the women you usually go after, if not more. You now know the meaning of that cliché, that saying about how sex can ruin friendships. You've never had female friends before. The only female who had ever come closest to the word friend was Kathryn, but then again, you know that it is more than that for her. She is your friend and your sister and lover and the love of your life.

"I know." She replies, shrugging the coat off her slender shoulders. Her kohl lined hazel eyes scan the crowd as she takes a seat beside her cousin, crossing her tanned legs. "I just want to. Come sit beside me though, birthday boy. It's been a while since we talked."

"Can't." Blaine interrupts, "He's going back to his apartment because he's not up for it."

"Oh?" Gia glances at you questioningly. "Okay then, you can drive me back to my hotel. I'm not really in a partying mood right now, too."

"Why'd you come then?"

She grins cheekily, "To see you of course."

There are times when she acts like Kathryn and times when she acts like Annette. There are also times when she is just Gia Griffin. These are the times when you visit her in school out of the blue and you watch as her entire face lights up when she realizes that you are there, and she introduces you to her friends as the guy whom she hated at first but eventually grew on her. Her friends all give you admiring glances and you greet them politely, leaning down so Gia could kiss your cheek like she does Blaine. When she is with her boyfriend, the guy usually looks so jealous that you wonder if he is suddenly going to start a fight because her attention is fixed solely on you. She is just Gia when you discuss books and go out for a very late night coffee, she is just Gia when she places her hands on the steaming coffee mug for a few seconds before she drinks it.

You put on a long suffering sigh, "Alright. Come on then."

She bids her goodbye to her cousin, who was already passed out. You both weave through the clusters of people, you go first but you keep your palm on her lower back so the drunk and high morons who were still partying wouldn't crush her tiny frame.

As you stand out on Blaine's porch with her, she pulls your arm to stop you from walking.

"Happy birthday." She hands you a wrapped package and waits for you to open it.

"You didn't have to get me anything, Gia."

"Yes, I did. I knew I was going to be late and you were going to call me on that so I decided to bribe you."

You laugh and she smiles and touches the corners of your eyes.

"I like it when you laugh."

"I like it when you bribe me."

She smirks and you walk to your car in silence, opening the door for her automatically. She gets in beside you and as you start the engine, you feel her hand on your wrist.

"Sebastian?"

"Yes?"

The way she looks at you makes you feel warm and safe, but she doesn't press herself against you like all the other women had. She just looks at you and her eyes seem softer and her cheekbones higher and more vulnerable.

"That day at Blaine... When you passed out? I'm glad you lived."

You take her hand and you kiss her palm, "Sometimes I'm glad I did, too."

But then at the back of your mind, you didn't mean it.

You walk her up to her hotel room later on, keeping your back hunched and you stare at the floor because you don't know what else to say.

"What's wrong?"

You are now standing just outside her door and she looks so worried because you look uncomfortable and ill. You want to leave and drive away because you keep remembering how smooth her shoulders looked when she took off her coat earlier and how she looked straight at you and told you that she was glad you were alive. You want to get away from her because you can't stare at her mouth and linger at that moment for too long, because then she just might kiss you back and you can handle kissing women whom you never care about seeing again but you can't handle kissing Gia because you can't just discard her like a piece of trash.

You can't do it because it is still Kathryn you want to kiss, _really_ kiss. It is still her you want to wake up next to and her you want to give everything you can to.

But you can't stop having all these thoughts in your fucked up head because Gia Griffin is too beautiful and her mouth looks so pink and soft that you just can't stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss her but you can't. You can't do it.

But then she uses the same palm you kissed in passing earlier and she touches your face…

_Kiss her. Don't. Don't. You can't. You can't betray Kathryn for another blonde again she'd kill you and never forgive you. It is only her that you want, only her don't even think about it. You can't, you just fucking can't!_

You step away from her and she looks slightly disappointed.

"I can't."

"It's not wrong anymore, Sebastian." She whispers, stroking your hair just like she did when she opened the door that day four years ago. "You know it isn't."

You can't stop looking at her. Can't stop feeling the light touch of her hand against your skin and your scalp because it is like she is drawing you into something and your will to resist is slowly slipping away.

"It's not wrong." She repeats quietly and her words turn into a slow murmur in your head as you bend your head and kiss her.

---

You wake up.

Kathryn is seated on your bed right beside you, thumbing through your journal.

"Don't read that!"

She looks confused and then she smiles a certain way only she can. It is slow and beautiful, like a flower blooming that nobody else notices and appreciates but you. Maybe it has always been like that.

"Why not?"

You sit up and take it from her, only she grabs your wrist and you stop moving. You even stop breathing. She's just watching you.

"It's empty." She kisses your hand before pulling away to flip a few blank pages of your journal. "See? Nothing in it anymore."

"What?"

You take the journal and flip a few pages, noticing that she was telling the truth. You frown and look puzzled back Kathryn only chuckles at your confusion.

"There was something here!"

"Now there's nothing."

"But I wrote things here! I had pictures here! Pictures of Annette and Cecile and of you!"

"Pictures of me?"

"Of course pictures of you! I-I must have… Where is it??"

You hold it upside down and shake it as though the ink would magically reappear and make everything as it was, but it remains empty. You look at it from every angle, but nothing's showing. Kathryn takes it away from you and finally you calm down.

"Valmont," She says quietly, "don't you love me anymore?"

---

You open your eyes again, only this time you realize that you are not on your bed. You blink several times and slowly the reality of the situation comes upon you because then you realize that Gia has moved and she is now resting her cheek against your shoulder as she sleeps soundly. The sheets have left her body and you can see the goosebumps that have formed on her skin so you pull the blankets up.

_Don't you love me anymore?_

You disentangle yourself from her and she moans sleepily as though protesting. You stroke her hair and kiss her forehead.

"I'm sorry." You tell her only she doesn't hear you.

---

You don't know why you did it, but instead of going to your apartment, you return to your old house. You go into your room with Blaine and Gia's gifts, closing your eyes the moment the familiar clicking of the closing door to your room commences.

You open Gia's gift first and you pull out a new journal with blank white pages the way you said you wanted it to be. You remember telling her that since Kathryn died, you hadn't kept a journal anymore, and that your old one just gathers dust because it hasn't and will never be opened from now on. You touch the hardbound journal and almost smile reminiscently because you remember exactly just how it felt to be inside of her and it was so liberating and exquisite that you would risk having a thousand nightmares filled with guilt just to experience it with Gia.

Blaine's gift comes next. A DVD. Briefly you think with caution, was this some kind of gay porn gag gift? You weren't really in the mood for seeing men having sex, not that you were ever in the mood for it at all. You take a seat and rest your neck against the leather couch, putting on your glasses so you could see better.

The TV switches from blue to Blaine's summer house. In fact, it was a closeup of his face.

"Hello and welcome to Casa Tuttle," He says grandly, his eyes twinkling as he holds the camcorder. You remember that day. It was when he got a new video camera and felt the need to record everything.

You smile a little.

"I'm here with a few of my lovely friends," he walks out and the camera shakes when he walks. Past the hall, down the stairs, and out into the beach, where you see a younger version of you in deep conversation with a girl. A conquest? You didn't even remember her name. Kathryn was, on the other hand, sprawled languidly on the blanket she had laid for herself. She had her eyes closed and her skin was tanned a golden brown, and you almost turned it off because you didn't like seeing her with her eyes closed but as Blaine approaches her, her green eyes open and she shoots him a threatening look.

"You're blocking my sun." She hisses, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Yeah, Tuttle." Your younger version calls out just as the girl plops herself on your lap. "Get off her case. She needs the heat, you know, being from hell and all."

"Oh, eat me, Sebastian! Prick!" She yells back crossly and you hear Blaine laugh from behind the camera.

"Sure!" You yell back and she only rolls her eyes.

"Get that thing away from me." She sits up, adjusting the straps of her bikini. She puts on her sunglasses and turn her attention back to you and your conquest, watching in disgust when you started making out.

"Aw, jealous aren't you? When are you ever going to tell him that you're just so madly in love with him?"

"I am not jealous, you fruitcake." She replies with utmost contempt, pausing to wave at somebody off camera with a phony smile on her face. "Nor am I madly in love with the stupid moron. Do you mind? I'm trying to get a tan here and having to talk to you is really annoying."

"Oh… Alright." Blaine turns the camera back to him and smiles widely. "There you have it, folks. The real yet still very much beautiful and deadly Kathryn Merteuil, your future student body president and overall resident bitch of Manchester Prep!"

"Shut that thing off _now_!" You hear her yell angrily and Blaine mutters something before the screen goes black.

You think that it's over, but imagine your surprise when after a few seconds, it goes back on again. This time, Blaine is doing some sort of moronic tour of his house when he stops just outside a door. You recognize your voice and Kathryn's.

Blaine waggles his eyebrows on screen and opens the door just a crack, pointing the camera inside.

Your heart gets lodged in your throat. You see this:

Kathryn coming up to you, pouting. You see yourself touch her face, then her curves and then you see yourself finally kiss her. She responds in kind and it isn't long before you slip your hands underneath the tiny white triangles that covered her breasts (eventually taking it off), gently squeezing and kneading while she allows you to push her on your bed. She pulls you closer and whispers your name when your mouth moves to her neck, her eyes are closed and her mouth is partly open while she wraps her legs around you and you just keep on touching her and kissing her like the girl you were with didn't matter.

"…I knew you two would kiss and make up!" Blaine suddenly yells and Kathryn shrieks while you hastily grab the nearest pillow to cover her body with.

"Tuttle!" You yell, glaring at him threateningly. "You can't just barge in here, you freak!"

"Come on… It was funny!"

"It was not funny!" You shoot back, turning to Kathryn concernedly. "Are you okay? Here, put this on."

You pull your shirt over your head and hand it to her, which she takes and pulls on. Just when you thought she was going to mouth off at Blaine, she plops herself on your lap and puts her arms around you, smiling at the camera.

"See, Blaine? I told you I wasn't jealous. Why should I be jealous? He's mine… At the end of the day, he's just mine."

She looks at you and instead of protesting, you trail your fingers down her cheek. You kiss her and she laughs softly when you accidentally brush against a ticklish spot on her ribs. You laugh and hold her loosely, kissing her forehead and allowing her to rest her cheek against your chest.

"Hey,"

"Yes, brother?" She stares at you, her mouth curled up into a small smile.

"You know I love you, right? The other one… You know it's nothing, right?"

"Yes, I know." She murmurs, grinning impishly. "No one else would put up with your shit anyway."

You smile and kiss her again, it feels like Blaine and his camera are just forgotten until Blaine groans out loud.

"Guys, seriously. Please stop this, it's so nauseating I might be like Kathryn and suddenly throw up."

"Hey!" Kathryn protests and you stand up with an arm around her like you were afraid she would suddenly leave and never come back. You both walk towards Blaine, your face is grim and Kathryn is looking at you like she knows what you're thinking because she has her arms wrapped around your waist as you proceed to throw Blaine out.

"Tuttle, that's my… Well, I don't know exactly what but that's Kathryn you're talking about. That's enough, Spielberg. Get out now before you find your precious bong broken into two."

"Valmont, you can feel free to break my bong every time… Maybe even put your mouth around it…"

"Out!" You yell in mock anger and Kathryn laughs out loud. The door eventually closes and you hear Blaine laughing to himself before he turns off the camera.

Show's over.

You press the remote control against your jaw and wipe the tears that have somehow collected in your eyes without you noticing it.

_ I can't._

You stand up and head over to bed because you feel so tired and drained from everything else when your cell phone rings. 

"Sebastian?"

"Gia."

"What's wrong? Where are you?"

"I can't… You can't make me let her go."

You hear her draw a shaky breath and somehow the fact that you have made her sad weighs so heavily upon you that you feel even more encumbered than before.

"I don't want to hurt you either."

She laughs bitterly.

"Too late."

Click.

Line's dead.

So are you.

Are you really?

No.

It just feels like you are.


	4. At Twenty Two

_"If I don't let myself be happy now then when?"  
If not now when?_

_When the time we have now ends.  
When the big hand goes round again.  
Can you still feel the butterflies?  
Can you still hear the last goodnight?_

-Jimmy Eat World

III.

You are Sebastian Valmont and you are turning twenty-two in three days.

You stare at yourself blankly in the mirror as you methodically fix your navy blue tie, tightening the knot so that it is snug and secure against your collar. You look for your wristwatch and frown as you rummage through your drawers for the kind that you liked.

Then you stop.

Before you is a blank journal that has never been used and opened. Gia's present for you from your last birthday.

You pause and take it out, caressing the cover lightly. Imagining her face. Her skin. Her touch. It seemed so long ago when it hadn't been technically a year. There is regret whenever you remember her. Had you been supposed to run after her that night?

There had been a part of you that screamed 'Don't you fucking let her go, you stupid bastard.', the way it had screamed at you to stop Kathryn from throwing you out that day when she told you that you were just a plaything to her. It is undeniable and absolutely traitorous to your stepsister but you had held on steadfast. You did not hear from her the following day when you woke up. You had glanced at your phone every now and then and convinced yourself that you were just doing that because you had expected a very important call from your father about the company. You would flip the phone open and scroll down the address book until the name Gia Griffin was selected. Your thumb had lingered on the green button and then you stopped. Closed the phone. You visited Kathryn and looked at the angel boy statue.

When you arrived at Blaine's, you casually inquired where Gia was. Blaine told you she had gone back to her apartment to pack for Paris.

Paris. You felt like you've been blindsided.

You've never heard from her again.

You were miserable. People who felt as miserable and fucked up as you are usually suggested to see a shrink. You went back to school and worked to forget. You did.

Until now.

You glance at your bed.

You see this:

"Sebastian, come back to bed."

You see your younger self out of the bathroom toweling your hair as your stepsister pulls the covers up her chin. Her eyes grow large and burn a dark green hole through your resistance because eventually you sigh and smile back at her.

"I can't. I have a date."

Jealousy. Annoyance. She throws a pillow at Young Sebastian and he catches it in midair. He throws it back at her casually and she scowls and harrumphs, jumping out of the bed with her puffy, newly woken eyes and her tiny slip of a gown.

"It's my birthday today."

"And?"

She stares at Young Sebastian for a while before she wordlessly leaves. You can almost hear the loud slamming of her door in your mind.

Your younger version disappears from your view and you glance at your arm. You touch the barely there puncture holes.

"How the fuck could I have survived all these years with her?" Young Sebastian calls out sighing. "She'll be the end of me."

You look up and glance at him.

"Because she's Kathryn." You reply to nobody else but yourself. Young Sebastian smiles and you see how he is so happy with Kathryn. "And you're the end of her."

Literally.

"True." He says, getting dressed while you fix your tie, adjust it, and find other things to move and change. "I don't know what I'd do if our parents get divorced. I think Tiffany would move away and bring her along if that ever happened and it would just fucking suck so much without her. It'll never be like it is with her."

There are other things to worry about than the divorce.

"Does it have to be?"

He shrugs, "I don't know. I don't want anybody else but her."

"Can't you be happy without betraying her?" You're getting restless. You wonder if you're going insane or if you need this in some twisted way to self medicate. "Can't you have somebody else and her at the same time? Does it have to be the same as it was with her? Can't it be different?"

Young Sebastian looks at you funny, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

You open your mouth but you shut it quickly. Your door has opened and Kathryn pokes her head in.

"You can forget getting any information about that stupid blonde moron in my class!" Kathryn glares at Young Sebastian. "Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you!"

"What the hell did I do?"

"You have a date!"

"And?"

"And it's my birthday! You have a date and it's my birthday!"

"I'm under the assumption that you're my stepsister and not my girlfriend. Has anything changed since then?"

"You… You… asshole!"

Young Sebastian looks genuinely perplexed and he looks at you for help.

You pity the poor bastard; after all, you had lived through it.

"You made her drop her plans for her birthday because you said you had something planned." You remind him and his eyes widen.

"Shit." He groans out loud, placing his palm on his forehead. "Fucking shit."

"Whom were you talking to?" Kathryn asks suspiciously. You smile at her. She looks so young and perfect today.

"Nobody." Young Sebastian says. "Jesus, Kathryn… I'm sorry… I totally forgot."

"I don't even know why I said yes!"

"You pestered her constantly until she screamed at you, smacked your head for being so annoying, and said yes." You interject. Young Sebastian clearly hears that because he smiles again.

"I'm really, really sorry. Listen, I can just ditch Tammy right now, okay?" Young Sebastian shuffles his feet. "I mean, I was going to fuck her after brunch and it really took a long time to even get to her… I think she's going to make for a nice entry in-"

"The faggot diary?" Kathryn looks like she's ready to kill him. "Fine. I can call my boyfriend then, it's just annoying because now it's going to be such a nuisance to call him and ask him to take me out. He had reservations for lunch, Sebastian. He had them and I made him cancel. He's leaving for France tonight and I cannot fucking believe I left him because of you."

"I think she loves you, you lucky bastard." You comment again and you see his eyes dart quickly to her face as if he can confirm what you had just said just by looking at her. "Trust me when I say this. Tammy is a fucking bore in bed. You're fifteen right now and things are great between you and Kathryn. You love her and maybe she loves you. I never did know. You're going to lose her soon, and if you don't take her out you are the biggest imbecile I've ever seen."

Your words make him fearful and you can see his arrogance die out.

"Divorce?" He whispers faintly, ignoring Kathryn's curious gaze.

"Worse." You reply, looking straight at him so he will know that you're not lying. "Much fucking worse."

Young Sebastian looks alarmed and ill. You almost feel bad for hitting the poor kid that hard.

"Coke?" He takes a seat on his bed, subdued. "Rehab?"

"Sebastian? What the hell is wrong with you??"

"No." You shrug. "Does it matter?"

He pauses.

"Death." He finally says quietly, looking like he is about to pass out.

You don't answer but he looks at you and he finds what he is looking for there.

"Jesus." He gasps and looks at a now perplexed Kathryn, then back at you.

"Liar!" He hisses angrily.

"Sebastian, what the fuck is going on here? Who are you talking to?"

"Let me talk to her."

"No!" Young Sebastian's a stubborn jackass.

"I haven't seen her for five fucking years. I'm in love with her and she's gone. Don't you understand that?"

"I'm going insane." He mumbles slowly and Kathryn looks like she is deciding whether to hit his head or really pay attention to him.

"Let her see me."

"You're not real."

"I'm fucking real. Let her see me, please. I need to talk to her."

"How?"

"Just allow me to and it'll happen."

He looks suspicious.

"Please." You say. "Please, I need to."

He relents.

"Fine."

Just like that, Young Kathryn's eyes bulge out when she notices you. She even screams a little as she looks at you and then at Young Sebastian.

"What the hell!" She hollers, backing away.

"Wait." You hold up your hands in an appeasing manner. Young Sebastian is just on the bed, his face as white as the clouds. He was still struck by what you had said earlier.

"Who are you?" She demands, grasping the book nearby to throw at you in case you turned out to be a lunatic.

"Can't you recognize?" You ask, trying to smile.

"Are you Sebastian's brother?"

"No. No, princess. It's me. I'm Sebastian."

"What…"

"Put it down… I swear that hurting you is the last thing on my mind right now."

"Sebastian?" She calls out to Young Sebastian who is looking at her sadly.

"I can't lose you." He tells her forlornly. "I fucking can't."

You manage to get close enough and you place your hand on her arm. She shivers and flinches.

"Look at me. I'm older, but it's me."

"How…"

"It doesn't matter. Please don't leave, I'd really like to talk to you."

"It's okay." Young Sebastian fidgets with the hem of his shirt. "He's okay, Kathryn."

"Sebastian?" She looks at you now and you smile and touch her fourteen-year-old face.

"Yes. Yes, it's me."

"You're… old."

"I'm turning twenty two, can you believe it?"

She hesitantly traces the wrinkles visible on your forehead and the rough stubble on your jaw.

"You look good." She finally smiles. "I knew you'd look good."

"Really?" Young Sebastian smirks despite his sudden bout of melancholy.

"Can you get him to leave?" Young Kathryn asks you and you nod. Young Sebastian stands up and as he is on his way out, he suddenly surprises his stepsister. He pulls her into a hug and kisses her hair many times until even Young Kathryn mumbles for him to get off her.

"I'm sorry I forgot, really I am. Please don't leave. Please don't ever leave me." He says quickly before leaving.

"Is he nuts?" She asks you, looking confused.

You laugh, "Sometimes."

She begins touching you, continuing her exploration of your older body. You feel her hands on your shoulders and then your chest, then your waist. Her hands linger on the sides and she frowns again.

"You've gotten bigger."

"Bigger good?"

"Yes… yes, bigger good."

"Can I kiss you?"

She looks surprised. You watch as her eyes dart to your mouth and you see her lick her lips before nodding wordlessly. You had to bend downwards a bit because she is so much smaller now, but eventually your lips touch hers and you kiss her. She responds easily, her hands slipping behind you and holding on to you.

"Why did you kiss me like that?" She asks after she pulls away.

"What do you mean?"

"Like you haven't seen me for a while."

"I haven't."

"Really?" She looks interested, "Where did I go?"

"You… moved."

"I did?"

"Yes."

"Did our parents get divorced?"

"No."

"Did I get busted for the drugs and Mother made me leave?"

"No."

She wrinkles her nose, "Did I get knocked up by some rich preppy bastard and Mother forced me to marry him?"

"Fuck no."

"Why did I leave then?"

"It just happened. I couldn't stop it from happening."

Young Kathryn softens, "Did we have a fight? Is that it?"

"Yes. We had a fight… You sent me away. You told me I was just your plaything and that you never wanted to see me again."

"I would never say that!"

"But you did."

"I would never… No, no… you're lying. I'd never tell you that. You're my Sebastian. I'd never do that."

"It happened."

"But did we make up after?

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you left me."

"I did?"

"Yes."

"And I didn't come back?"

"No."

"Really?" She looks doubtful. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure, yes." You kiss her forehead, "So you see, I've missed you very much."

She regards you in a new light. "Something's different with you."

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"I love you."

"You what?"

"I love you." You repeat this because it is nice to be able to say that to her again. "That's what's different."

"What happened to us that made you like this?"

"I lost you. I couldn't get you back. That's what happened."

"Were we… Did we…?"

"No."

"Do I say I love you back when I'm older?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Does he love me?" She indicates at the empty bed where Young Sebastian was.

You chuckle. "Ask him."

"He'll never tell."

"He probably won't."

"Am I married when I'm older? Is that why you couldn't get me back?"

"I can't say, Kathryn."

"Why not? You already told me a lot of things. I'm just trying to understand what happened to us."

"Something horrible."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Did we fuck?"

"No. Is that your idea of something horrible happening to us?" You feel hurt.

"Why not? Of course it's not a horrible idea… I just wanted to know."

"Because you told me I was a joke and then you laughed at me for being such a loser."

"Why did I hate you that much?"

"Because I fell in love with someone else and it pissed you off."

"You did? Who?"

"It doesn't matter."

She pushes me away, "Why did you do that then?"

"Because I wanted you too badly and I got tired of waiting for you."

"Is she pretty?"

"Yes."

She looks insulted.

"But it didn't work out. After you left, it was over. I swear."

"Are you waiting for me to come back to you?"

"Yes."

"Will I?"

"No. You're gone forever."

"Did I die?"

"No." You lie.

"I don't believe you."

"You hate me so much, that's why you're gone. You don't try to see me, you don't call me or find a way to talk to me. You just left… but I'm still waiting."

"Do you love me that much?"

"Yes."

"Do you talk to me?"

"Yes, but you don't say anything back."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"No. You're lying. I would've come back to you. One way or another, I would have. If our parents were divorced, I would've found a way. If I got busted for the drugs and sent to rehab, I know I would've agreed to see you if you had visited. If some preppy bastard did knock me up, I'd still come see you. If you chose some pretty slut and fell in love with her, I would have planned to get rid of her to get you back with me. It doesn't make sense."

"You're not exactly the most rational person in the world, Kathryn."

She laughs and squeezes your arm.

"Why are you here?" She asks.

"To see you. I missed you."

"You don't come and see me when we're the same age?"

"I do… But you don't want to see me. So I don't. I just wait."

"Do I come?"

"In dreams."

"Am I dead?"

"No." _Not to me_.

"Do you really love me?"

"Yes." You pause hesitantly. "Do you love me?"

Her eyebrows scrunch together, "I don't know."

"Really? It's okay. I didn't know when I was fifteen either."

"I think I do. Maybe I do. I don't know, but I would've gone back to you if I could have." Young Kathryn muses, smiling slightly.

"Really?"

"Yes." Comes a voice. Deep and sultry. Kathryn (almost your age Kathryn) steps into the room soundlessly and poor Young Kathryn shrieks again. She holds on to you and Older Kathryn watches the two of you holding on to each other. Mismatched by time.

"Sebastian, why are you doing this?"

"I don't know."

"You're me." Young Kathryn says in wonder, "You look different too…"

Older Kathryn glances at you. You jerk your head and shake it. _No. She doesn't know._

"I told her about our fight and how you left and never came back."

"Did you really?" Older Kathryn asks in a dry tone, approaching us.

"Do you really hate him?" Young Kathryn questions.

"No. Far from it, Kathryn."

"He said he loves me."

"I know."

"Why don't you forgive him?"

"I have."

"Why don't you come back to him then?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just can't anymore."

"Well I'm not buying it! That's just fucking wrong! He's Sebastian! You can't just leave Sebastian!"

Older Kathryn beckons to you and you slowly let Young Kathryn go. The younger one watches as you make your way to her older version.

"He makes my life better." Young Kathryn says to Older Kathryn, "I don't know who I'd be without him."

"Then it's lucky that you wouldn't have to be without him." Older Kathryn replies cryptically. She looks at you.

"Sebastian, why are you here?" Older Kathryn slips her hand into yours and your cheek touches hers. You close your eyes. When you open them, Young Kathryn's eyes meet yours.

"I don't know." You whisper to her, "I'm still waiting for you."

"Do you need me to tell you it's okay?"

"It's not okay."

"It isn't. I hate that you're into her. I'd like to strangle her fucking neck."

"Thank you."

"No. Don't listen to me. I'm being selfish. I just want you all to myself and I don't even get to really have you. Go. It's not okay, but go. I want you but I can't have you."

"You do have me."

"Not the way we both want. I can't fuck you. I can't kiss you. I can't do anything I want to. It's not fair, but things rarely ever are."

"No."

"Go." She whispers again and you realize Young Kathryn is gone.

"I can't leave you."

She smiles. "Whoever said you were?"

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Don't listen to me." She kisses you again and her mouth feels cool against yours. Delicious. Food for your fucked up soul.

"Do you love me?" You ask again and she only smiles.  
---

Wake up.

You do.

You call Blaine's house.

"Hello?"

That voice. Your eyes shoot open.

"Hello?"

"Gia." Your voice is still raspy and groggy but she clearly knows it's you. She doesn't talk for a few seconds.

"Sebastian… Hold on, I'll get Blaine."

"No!" You sit up immediately, "No, I mean, I haven't heard from you in a while."

"I've been busy." Her voice sounds a little detached. "Blaine's outside but I'm going to get him now."

"Can we have lunch or something?"

"It's four in the afternoon."

"Really?" You glance at the clock, "Shit."

"Having bad dreams again, Valmont?"

"Yeah. I saw my fifteen year old self and I was actually talking to him, or rather, me."

She laughs a little. "Fucking crazy."

"But Kathryn was there too."

She abruptly stops laughing. "Okay, here's Blaine now."

"Wait, please."

You sense her hesitation through the long silence that ensued after. You can almost imagine her face passive and contemplative, with her deep-set hazel eyes staring at some meaningless object like Tuttle's notepad. You sit up your bed, scratching your lower abdomen. You hear her breathing.

"I need to see you." You continue, "Please."

"Okay." She replies quietly. "When?"

"Now. I'll just go get changed… I'll meet you there."

"Alright, Sebastian."

You pause. "I missed you."

"Please don't say that."

She hangs up.

---

You arrive at Blaine's in record time. Your hair is even slightly wet from the bath and your clothes are a little rumpled but you don't care. Gia answers the door with an expression that says absolutely nothing. You hated that. You wished she was easy to read and that she wasn't like Kathryn, who could portray a different emotion even though she felt the complete opposite.

She looks beautiful. Like Annette. Like Kathryn. Like someone who makes you suddenly feel nervous.

"Hi."

She smiles at you although you can see her uneasiness.

"Blaine went out to meet Greg." She says, leading the way to the living room. "Can I get you anything? A drink?"

"No, thank you."'

"Alright." She sits down. You notice she didn't pick the couch.

"How are you, Sebastian?"

She sounds polite. Too polite. She's treating you like a stranger. This is wrong.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you. It wasn't fair and trust me when I say that I didn't want to hurt you."

"Does it matter?"

"No. Yes. I'm an asshole, but you have to understand. Kathryn is…"

"Your sister with whom you have a weird fixation with. I get it, okay?"

"Blaine never told you about her?"

"I've asked him, but he always said to ask you."

"I loved her, okay? She wasn't my sister and I didn't have a weird fixation with her. I loved her and I think she loved me back. I've wanted her for as long as I can remember, but she was too much of a hardheaded bitch to let me have her. We made a bet and if I won, I'd get to fuck her."

"Oh."

"I bet her I'd be able to fuck Annette Hargrove and she said otherwise. I did get Annette to bed, but I ended up having feelings for her. Kathryn found out and got pissed off, and then she mindfucked me by threatening my reputation if I didn't break up with Annette. Being the pussy that I was, I did it. I broke up with her."

"You don't have to tell me this…"

"But I want to. I want you to understand. In hindsight, I think I didn't just break up with her because of my reputation. I think I did it because I saw how Kathryn acted when she found out… She went into my room and just kissed me out of the blue. I still remember how it felt like even until now. I'm a bastard because I laughed afterwards. I told her it was ridiculous because I didn't know what else to say."

Gia only listens intently.

"When I came to her room to collect on my winnings, she threw me out. She called me her toy and pretty much fucked me up. I left her and went back to Annette. I didn't want to think that I had thrown everything away with Kathryn just for some meaningless blonde, if that makes any sense." I pause, looking at her. "Well, Kathryn wasn't going to let me get off that easily. She sent Ronald after me, Ronald, whose girlfriend I fucked because Kathryn asked me to. We got into a fight and Annette tried to break us up. He accidentally pushed her out on the street and there was a car… I didn't think. I didn't act. I only moved, but the cab was so fucking fast. I pushed her aside and I felt someone do the same to me. I thought it was Ronald only it wasn't… it was her. It was Kathryn."

"Oh my God."

"I broke a few ribs and everything hurt so badly. Kathryn wasn't moving at all and I was freaking out. I lost consciousness when the paramedics came. After they treated me, I would sneak into her room. She was always asleep. She looked far worse than I ever did, and at first I thought it would be fine. I was mad at her for what she did, but now I was even angrier because she wouldn't wake up. I had a lot of things to say to her but I couldn't, so I waited."

She looks at her hands.

"I waited for a long time for her to wake up, but she never did… I had a dream about her. It was weird… I didn't know if it was really her or if it was just in my head… but we made up. We got into a screaming fight but we made up and I thought it was going to be okay… but I woke up. She died."

"Sebastian, I'm sorry I had no idea…"

"She died and it was my fault. I can't get over it, how do you ever really get over something like that? I'm not going to tell you all the shit I did. I think you already have an idea… and it was okay for a while. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing I did really mattered… but then I met you. Things changed." I look at her. I try to read what she's thinking. What she's feeling. She's giving me nothing. "You're the only one who's ever been able to convince me, even if it was just for an hour or two, that it was okay."

"And now? Is it okay now?"

"I don't know."

Her face falls. I can't lose her too.

I think about Kathryn. Her smile. Her eyes. Her hair. Her skin. Her taste. I think about how it would have been like if we were together. I think about how I've been when she was gone. I loved her. I love her, but I can't have her. It's just like how it's always been.

Then I look at Gia and I think about her too. How I first met her. How she didn't kick me when I was down and bleeding. How she made me feel like when she would surprise me with a visit. How she looked when I was inside of her and how she held on to me, kissing my mouth and making me happy.

"But I want it to be okay. Can we just…" I pause. My heart beats fast. I want to apologize to Kathryn and then tell her that I need to do this. I hoped that if she is out on her perfect beach with the pristine white sand, she isn't planning to throttle me. I hoped that she understood.

"Can we try?"

She doesn't talk for a while.

"Gee?"

"I'm not her." She replies. "Don't ever compare me to her."

"I won't." You promise solemnly.

She looks at you for a long time before she smiles.

"It'll be okay." She finally says, her eyes as warm as the summer heat.

You've heard that phrase over and over again throughout the years from different people. From when you were a little boy and you skinned your knee, your mother kissed your cheek and told you it'll be okay. When you were angry and sullen at the news that your parents were getting a divorce and your father was getting married to a woman named Tiffany with a daughter your age. Blaine had told you that it'll be okay.

You never believed them.

But at that point, you believed Gia.

It'll be okay.

When she kisses you, you fall back against the leather couch with her body against yours. You kiss her back and you mirror her smile because you are happy again.

"Hey, what's going on here? Not on my couch, buddy!" Blaine calls out, catching his cousin straddling you.

"Okay." You pull her and carry her in your arms easily. She's light. You're light. Everything's weightless. It'll be okay. "We're moving to your room, Tuttle. Goodbye."

Gia's chuckles make you smile as you both hear Blaine's protests echo in the hallway. She touches your face. You stop and look at her.

"Are we really doing it on his bed?"

You make a face. "Fuck no. It might be like rolling around in dried semen."

"Don't be gross, Sebastian!" She shuts up when you start kissing her. You kiss her eyes shut and open the guest room.

"Everything's going to be okay." You whisper in her ear when you set her down the bed.

"It is." She agrees, pulling you down.

---

_Happy twenty-second birthday, Sebastian!_

"Gee, I'm on my way to see you okay?" You glance at your watch as you walk, expertly avoiding the onslaught of people who are obviously in a hurry. You take your sunglasses from your pocket and put it on, avoiding the glaring sunlight.

"Mkay." You hear her place an order for a salad. "Hey, guess what?"

"What?" You smile in spite of yourself. You wanted to see her already.

"I told my friends about you and they all said it was about fucking time."

You laugh. "Your friends are very smart."

"Yes, they are." You can hear her smile. How is that even possible, hearing her smile? For three days it has been nothing but being with her that consumed you. Her mouth, her smile, her kisses, all of which have made you extremely happy.

"I'll see you very soon."

"You will. And you'll keep seeing me over and over until you get sick of me."

"I like the sound of that." She enthuses and you grin again before you hang up.

Everything is okay now. You notice a little girl wearing a prep school uniform with her hand tucked underneath the strap of her backpack. Little Kathryn doll.

It's okay. It's okay now, Sebastian.

---

Blink. Step. Cell phone slipped into your pocket.

But then it isn't okay anymore.

It happens like this:

Little Kathryn doll is preoccupied with the shiny new bike perched behind the store window beside you. Her guardian, a woman who looks like her mother, is too busy talking on her cell phone. You watch her larger hand become empty when the little brown haired girl slips away from her. She starts walking towards you, her little eyes round and focused on the bike.

It is quick. You don't think, just like before. It is ironic and it is fucked up. A car horn screams at everyone. Your legs start working. I_'m not a martyr. I'm not a fucking saint. I'm not acting. I'm not thinking. I jump. I reach out. I yell._

_My rationality dissolves into a puddle and it is replaced by a single thought:_

_Save her. Save Kathryn this time._

And then you are seventeen again. Running. Yelling. Annette! Save her! You have to! Only this time it isn't Annette. It's Kathryn.

She feels strange in your arms as you tackle her. No. Too slow. Too late.

You are in pain again. Pain unlike anything you've ever experienced before. You scream and yell. Gia! Kathryn! Annette! Tires screech. Your bones break. You start to bleed. You're thrown away from the Little Kathryn doll. You gasp when the wind is knocked out of you as you land on your back.

Omph. Snap. Crack. It hurts all over again.

You blink drowsily at the sky, your hand twitches. People all around you are yelling. What a déjà vu this is. Amidst the noise, you hear the taptaptap of the little schoolgirl's Mary Janes. Her mother yells after her. She's crying. Her green eyes are filled with large tears that drip down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," She sobs, clutching your arm. "Please, sir. Don't die."

You struggle to breathe. You can't. Your body is shutting down. You think of Gia. _Oh, Gee. God, I'm so sorry_. You wished you had more time with her.

You shake your head and grimace at her. Smiling in the middle of the physical pain.

"I saved you this time." You smile; your ears are shutting out the noise that surrounds you. You hear waves crashing against the shore. You feel bits of the purest white sand between your fingers instead of the gravel. You hear footsteps. The clacking of heels. You feel the swishing of Kathryn's silk bathrobe instead of the little girl's uniform brushing against your hand.

Her large green eyes blink in confusion. The tears continue to flow. Her mother's caught up to her. She looks like an older Kathryn, or is it all in your head now?

"Tell Gee I had to go. Tell her I wish we had more time. Tell her for me please."

She nods, her eyes alarmed and shocked. She holds the Little Kathryn doll tightly and the child starts crying.

"Oh, please don't cry." You try to speak but something's blocking your throat. You cough it out. Blood. "Please don't cry. We're even now, don't you see? We've both won. You won't be mad anymore, right?"

She looks at the lady, who still doesn't know what to say. Little Kathryn doll buries her face in the lady's neck.

"Mommy."

She looks so scared yet safe nestled against her mother and you close your eyes and smile.

Everything will be okay now.

Drip. Drip. Drip. The ambulance arrives. You hear it faintly, but it is low compared to the waves and the beach. The two-story mansion. The endless servants. The perfect sand. As you close your eyes, you hear it now. It's getting louder. It's getting clearer.

Clacking of Kathryn's heels. The way she shut the doors. The way she ran. The way she looked at you.

_I'll see you soon._

The End.


End file.
